


Hands Stained Red

by VenetaPsi



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, Depends on what you wanted, Depression, F/M, Friends stepping in and putting their foots down, Friendship, Friendship heals, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, M/M, Main Character Brian, Recovering from Hanahaki Disease, Recovering from Unrequited Love, Recovery, Self-Isolation, Suicidal Thoughts, Unlikely Friendships, Unrequited Love, bittersweet end, brian-centric, happy end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 16:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20763668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi
Summary: If Brian had to admit one flaw about himself, it was that he had bad habits. Routines and streams of unconscious actions that were as tightly sewn into his character as anything else, weights in his pockets that tended to drag him down when he was attempting to swim.Nogla was a bad habit.OrBrian is lovesick.





	Hands Stained Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Colourspaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourspaz/gifts).

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts, references to depression, evidence of depression, NO ONE ACTUALLY COMMITS SUICIDE, only brief consideration of it

If Brian had to admit one flaw about himself, it was that he had bad habits. Routines and streams of unconscious actions that were as tightly sewn into his character as anything else, weights in his pockets that tended to drag him down when he was attempting to swim. 

Usually though, it was nowhere near that dramatic. His habits tended to lend themselves more towards eating too much chocolate, or breaking his pencils by flexing them with his hands, or listening to his music way too loud. 

There were a couple, however, that were detrimental to his own wellbeing. Giving away too much money for one thing. He was a charity person. A bit too much. It hadn’t been kind to him when he’d been holed up in a garage-turned apartment where he was stealing his landlords wifi.  
He also had a habit of buying an awful lot of games. Little, stupid inde two player things or big Triple-A sequals to enormas franchises; whatever. He bought it. And don’t get him started on McDonalds. 

Nogla was a bad habit. 

Not by his own merit by any means; David was an amazing person. He was kind, genuine, and _so_ talented. He was a simple man, in Brian’s own words, easy to converse with yet still wicked sharp with sarcasm. He was everything Brian had ever wanted in a friend, someone gentle and stern and funny all at once. That was why Nogla was so very dangerous. 

It hit him like a wave. 

The sudden warm cloud that surrounded Brian’s face, and cheeks, and hands, the heat that pooled in his chest and the laughter that bubbled up in his throat was strong and familiar. The smile that tugged unconsciously at his lips; wide and genuine. 

The adoration and fondness and simply _joy_ that filled his mind and heart was suffocating and liberating all at once. 

_Oh fuck,_ Brian thought. 

_Oh fuck._

He knew he stared, for the rest of that recording session, at the tall, black haired man sitting beside him. He also knew he couldn’t dim the dopey smile, drenched honey sweet, lovesick, that stuck tight to his lips and dimples. 

_God this was a disaster._

His heart disagreed. 

The crush on Nogla was a downhill spiral, rapid and dizzying. Brian had expected it to pass- just like his brief infatuation with Vanoss when they’d first met and his even quicker-ending attraction to Craig. 

It didn’t end. 

Beyond the giddy dopamine that followed his heart’s sudden insanity, was an awful, all encompassing feeling of guilt deep in the pit of his stomach. 

His girlfriend didn’t deserve this. 

Brian loved Lanai, he really, really did. She was everything, beautiful and hilarious and whip-snap smart. He was a loyal, faithful guy, believed in nothing less, and this betrayal he was unable to control was weighing him down until his was suffocating under crushing guilt because _this wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t control what his mind did_ and yet he was still falling out of love with her. 

The realization devastated him, perhaps more so then her when she noticed the change in his actions, the sudden uncomfortable edge to his movements. 

Then she’d tried to reassure him, gently, kindly, and _he didn’t deserve that._

Brian felt like a piece of shit. 

It became agony, mentally, and it _felt_ like agony physically, to be around Nogla. The ache in his chest only grew, choking him with a longing he’d never felt before. The intense, all encompassing infatuation scared him, if he was honest. There was no way it could be healthy for Brian to feel like he’d die without him. 

That sounded more like obsession. 

Perhaps the worst part however, was that _Brian couldn’t stop it._ He tried, _God_ he tried. He clung to Lenai desperatly, like a lifeline, tried to distance himself from David, tried to get his fucking mind and soul _under control._

If anything, it got worse. The burning fondness that came from Nogla, the sense of home and comfort that made Brian feel like he couldn’t properly breathe. Yet while he was away from his friend Brian felt adrift in a cold, black ocean; drowning, insecure, only half-conscious. 

When David officially announced to him and his friends that he had a girlfriend, in such a happy, content voice, Brian spent the morning curled up under his blankets feeling hot and nauseous. Jealousy ripped harsh at his stomach and his throat burned. Brian was not an envious, posessive fucking person. He _knew_ he wasn’t. 

_What the fuck was wrong with him._

Nogla was in love. That much was obvious, Brian could tell in an instant. He’d known the man for years, he could hear in his voice, see in his eyes how much Aliyah mattered in Nogla’s mind. 

It was a bittersweet feeling. Brian was happy that Nogla was happy. 

He was so goddamn jealous. 

He was so goddamn _selfish._

_ He was so goddamn in love._

Self-loathing became commonplace in Brian’s mind.

It had happened in the past, rarely, and Tyler or Marcel did it on occasion with their own girls, but Nogla ditched a recording session to spend time with his girlfriend. Brian was huffy and cross the rest of the session, taking it out on poor Kryoz who’d been called in as Nogla’s replacement in their Uno game. Brian knew they noticed, could tell Brock was mad at him for being an ass, Evan was concerned, and John was confused; yet he still couldn’t stop the word vomit, the strings of cursing and rage and bitter, weak defeat that poured from his lips. 

Brock left the session in a furious, annoyed explosion halfway through. 

Brian was a piece of shit. 

He collapsed against his bathtub that night, shaking. His hand clenched tight against the cold porcelain and his knees slammed against the hard tiled floor and he coughed; violently, until he thought he’d either choke or pass out from not being able to _breathe-_

There were tears of pain the corners of his eyes when he stared down at his hand in exhausted bafflement, heaving deep breaths, knuckles white. 

There were three limp, crumpled, spit-soaked flower petals in his hand. 

He’d just coughed up _flower petals_ like he was choking on food. 

_What the actual fuck._

He looked it up. Hanahaki Disease, a fictitious, metaphoric sickness used in _fanfiction_ to portray unrequited love. 

It was fucking fake. There were absolutely no confirmed examples of it _anywhere._

The flower petals were real and cold and terrifying in his palm as he huddled there in his bathroom, shaking hands frantically typing on his phone. 

He’d actually just coughed up flowers. 

He was dying because he was in love with his best friend. 

He was _dying._

Brian didn’t go online the next day. 

The Irishman threw himself into Fortnite; a sudden and snap decision. He called up Wildcat, and the younger man was happy to play with him, if a bit confused. The game became an escape, a competitive, fierce experience he could drown himself in and scream and rage and destroy things until his voice was horse and he wanted to throw something from how mad he was. 

It wasn’t healthy. 

It was better than the alternative; facing reality. 

Wildcat played with him, patiently entering duos with him or inviting him to squads and shouting along with each of Brian’s explosions. The companionship was comforting, and it was so simple for Brain, to play games with one of his oldest friends and just dick around or call out other shitty players or cheer at a sudden, well fought victory. 

Brian did notice, however, that Tyler was being cautious around him. He didn’t see it at first, but the longer he played with his loud, blunt friend, the more Brian realized Tyler was being almost protective. He came to the realization that Tyler offered to play duos to stop Brian from playing alone. Tyler invited Brian to squads to give him an escape from his normal recording group. 

Brian didn’t think he knew it was Nogla that Brian was avoiding, but clearly Tyler had figured out Brian was fleeing something in his closer group of YouTube buddies. 

He smiled; wry and pained. Brian had forgotten in the recent frustration over Wildcat’s game choices how observant the taller actually was. 

Brian uploaded an awful lot of Fortnite all of a sudden. He also started to have a lot more respect for Tyler’s fortitude when he started receiving the same ‘anti-fortnite’ comments the American had been getting for over a year. 

His bathroom trash can was filled with bits of flower and his throat burned. 

Terrorizer couldn’t stay away from his friends forever, though. Evan kept pushing him, in that quiet, insistent, concerned way the Asian always then passed off as a joke. Eventually, Brian played on the Minecraft server with his normal crew, because the fans were starting to notice an awfully small amount of interaction between him and the others. Even then though, he tended to naturally gravitate towards Tyler and Anthony and Scotty. 

David sent Brian a concerned Discord message, asking if he’d done something wrong because he could tell Brian was avoiding him. 

Brian didn’t know how to respond to that. 

He lied and told David he’d just been trying to reconnect with some of the others he’d been drifting away from. 

He could tell Nogla didn’t fall for it. 

The Minecraft session was a disaster. The issue was, the server couldn’t function without Brian. He was the admin and server owener, the only admin because he wasn’t stupid enough to Op one of his friends, but it also meant he was the only person who could give people creative, set up events with commands, and reset the server. 

He ended up resetting the server five times. Each time people got mad at each other, started yelling. Things blew up and Brian didn’t have the energy to laugh. Nogla started streaming. 

An hour in and Brian was hitting his breaking point, exhausted in a way he’d never felt before. Then Nogla went to make food and let his girlfriend play in his absence. The crew loved it, had a riot teasing Aliyah because the girl snarked back in equal manner, easily holding her own. She was hilarious and witty, complemented Nogla in an obvious manner. Brian liked her too. She ticked every box he needed filled to say someone was a good choice for a relationship with one of his friends. 

Brian hand jerked to leave the call suddenly, the violent disconnecting jingle ringing through the Discord chat for a split second before everything went silent and he hunched over in his chair, hacking violently. He stumbled to his room and collapsed onto the sheets, hands full of flowers and stems, trembling. He fell asleep, exhausted and numb.

The bed was littered with flower petals when he awoke fitfully, lips and hands stained a sticky red, the sheets turned pink and brown with blood and scattered with petals.

He mouth tasted metallic and sickly of iron. 

He stomach burned.

Brian rolled over shakily and picked up his phone off the bedside table. He hadn't plugged it in, and it was at 37%. There were multiple Discord notifications from Tyler, Evan, Nogla, and even Anthony. Apparently his avatar was still ingame. He hadn’t disconnected from the server. 

The brunette squinted at the screen blankly, unseeing for several minutes before eventually selecting a number off of his call list. His finger lightly smeared blood across the glassy surface.

His manager picked up after a couple of rings, sounding vaguely groggy from recently waking up. She stifled a yawn, breathy and static sounding over the phone. 

“What’s going on Brian? Is everything alright?”

He waited a beat, heart thumping painfully in his chest. 

“I want to move to America.”

Kryoz invited Brian to a Rainbow Six Siege recording that day. Desperate for a distraction, the brunette agreed, sliding to a call with John and Smii7y (because of course Smitty would also be there, what did he expect), and two of their other friends, Jaay and Byze. He vaguely knew Jay through Mini, and didn’t know Byze at all, but he relaxed slightly when the group seemed content to let him sit as quietly as he wished, listening to them banter. 

Wherever Brian spoke up, he was easily slotted into their conversations like he’d always been there, and when he suddenly felt a coil of nausea and went silent, they let him slide out gracefully. Brian warmed to John considerably over the course of the recording session, and while sitting on a spectator cam after he died, suddenly followed an urge and typed Kryoz a quick apology in a Discord DM. He’d been unnecessarily rude in the prior Uno session. 

John told him he was forgiven, in those exact, dramatic words and Brian smiled softly, for the first time in a long time. His laugh was lighter from then on in the session, and Brian could tell everyone noticed because they kept trying to make him giggle. Warmth sparked in his chest, a low simmer that temporarily soothed his pained heart. 

He played with them the entire day, without quite realizing it. A couple hours in they switched to Counter Strike, a new game for Brian that he had to seek out and buy and download and had absolutely shit all experience with. John and Smitty found this hilarious, though they also declared themselves his official teachers to introduce him to their favorite game. 

By the time the sun was setting and Brian was constantly yawning, he knew several callouts and understood the basic concepts of the game. 

It was surprisingly enjoyable. Eventually John kicked him from the call with the statement that “your yawning is ruining our content, go sleep dumbass,” which was ‘Kryoz’ for _you’re exhausted, go to bed before you hurt yourself._

The fierce burn in Brian’s throat had lessened somewhat by the time he curled up on the couch, avoiding his still bloodsoaked bed. 

The couch cushions and his hands were bare and clean when he woke. The brunette’s mouth felt dry, but without the usual lingering taste of grass and iron. Brian didn’t tremble when he rose to his feet. 

Whatever progress he’d somehow made that day however, vanished over the course of the next week. The next day was a downward spiral that eradicated whatever peace the previous day had wrought. Tuesday and Wednesday was more Minecraft and more exhaustion and frustration and soon a blank numbness had settled over Brian like a cloud. 

John kept messaging him. So did Tyler. 

Brian ignored them both. 

By Friday he was curled up on the tile of his bathroom floor again, shuddering and moaning in pain as he coughed uncontrollably. His hands and shirt were soaked through with a violent crimson and he felt lightheaded, about to pass out. Pain lanced through his side, his throat, his head, _his lungs._

He laid there, half propped up against the wall, chest rising and falling with dry heaves, and finally started to think that maybe this wasn’t worth it. 

Brian honestly wasn’t sure he could live like this anymore. 

The brunette closed his eyes tiredly as a wave of vertigo and dizziness sent black spots dancing across his vision. 

“Ow.” He mumbled pathetically, bluntly, the words coming out as more of a whimper than actual vocals. 

_Please make it stop._

_ I just want this to end._

Smitty called him, actually _called_ him on the phone that Saturday to invite him to a Minecraft server him and John had created. It was on the tip of Brian’s tongue to refuse, he’d barely slept and he was so worn out of Minecraft in general, of people, he just wanted to curl up and wait to die because he was at that state of pain and _exhaustion and just utter doneness with this whole situation-_

“Okay,” He rasped, unable to make his voice raise higher or come out any smoother. Smitty was silent for a beat too long, and Brian could hear something, an edge in the Canadian’s voice when he told Brian to get on as soon as he was able. 

Brian could’ve sworn there was almost fear in the other’s voice. 

Playing Minecraft was surprisingly relaxing. Brian joined a call with Smitty, and the other talked in a constant, soothing stream of words with no action to try and make Brian talk. Kryoz was also on the server, though not in their call. He was streaming, and therefore trying to build a complex set of redstone doors with the help of his Twitch chat. Sometimes however, John would show up ingame and ask them for something in text chat, or simply run around their houses opening chests or doors seemingly randomly. 

Brian settled into a sort of haze, gentle conversing in his ears and the familiar sights of Minecraft leaving him quiet and calm. 

No one commented when he fell asleep in the call several hours later, curled up in his gaming chair, his game still in the inventory.

Smitty boxed his character in with dirt to keep him safe. 

Brian woke to easy breaths passing through his throat, a bit more energy spurring him on to take a shower and replace the sheets on his bed. Only a few petals lay on his desk from the night before, and no blood that Brian could find. He swept them into the trash and exited the Minecraft server and discord call, catching a message from Smitty saying “Goodnight idiot” and form John saying “Wow, my stream was that boring? :(“

Brian smiled and laughed lightly. 

Some sort of behind the scenes communication must have occured while he was occupied, because Tyler suddenly called him on the phone like Smitty had the day prior, and next thing Brian knew he was playing Fortnite again. 

Time passed. His throat healed, slowly, and Brian’s voice returned. His laugh and smile reappeared as well, soft at first, hesitant, then louder and brighter as time passed. In June, Nogla made an official video introducing his girlfriend to his channel and fans. Brian watched it, calm despite the fact that he felt his heart thudding inconsistently in his chest, felt the soft strumming of jealousy below his skin.

**Smii7y**  
_Hey man, you getting on?_

Brian glanced down at his phone for a second, stared at the message. He closed the YouTube tab when then the video ended, and swallowed down the emotions, and with it the urge to cough. 

When he joined the Minecraft server, there were no petals on his desk. 

In July, Nogla came to visit. 

David greeted him hesitantly when Brian opened the door, his posture closed as if he feared Brian might reject him. The brunette gave the tall Irishman a soft smile and pulled him into a hug. David was warm in Brian’s arms, and his heart started to thud wildly. Brian took a deep breath and smoothly pulled away, bracing himself against the immediate backlash of pain that sliced through his lungs. 

It wasn’t as bad as he expected- tolerable even. Brian breathed a little easier and his smile widened slightly. 

“Hey David. I’m glad you came.”

Nogla smiled widely at Brian, relaxing fully at the greeting and the rare use of his full name. 

“I was worried about you,” He confessed, semi-sheepishly. Like he might be overstepping boundaries. Brian reached out and squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“I’m doing better,” Brian promised, and for the first time in a long time, the words he spoke directly to David were not a lie. 

They were mid-recording session when Brian got his visa to America. With a sudden shock, he realized his joy was genuine, that he wanted to go to America for more reasons than his initial desperate need to run form Nogla. He actually wanted to move, and that was what stopped him from canceling the plans when he saw the hurt expression flash across David’s face. 

Brian was cheerful though, despite the guilt he felt towards his best friend. He made sure to give David a long, tight hug when the video ended. 

“I’ll visit,” He promised honestly. Nogla hugged him a little tighter. Brian’s heart fluttered; fond, yet subdued. His breaths came easily. 

“It’ll be alright,” Brian reassured softly, when tears gathered in the corners of both of their eyes. And despite their hesitancy, they both believed it. 

Brian was able to let David leave the next day with minimal bits of plant spit into the toilet. There was no blood, the pain slightly lessened, and the petals were slightly browned; weak and limp. 

The plant in his lungs, killing him, was dying. 

Brian took a deep breath, and it didn’t rattle, it didn’t shudder. 

He could do this. 

Gaming had become a lifeline, not because of the distraction anymore, the desperate urge to pour his grief and pain into anger and competition, but because the presence of his friends were genuinely comforting. They talked him through fits and breakdowns and days that were simply shitty, and while Brian would never tell any of them that _flowers_ were growing in his lungs, he could tell them that they were helping him. They dubbed his issue depression and he didn’t bother to correct them. 

Tyler was an outlet for days he was angry, days he was scared, days he desperately needed to throw himself at a game and a friend who could banter back at him, someone who wouldn’t let him drown and would hold him above the crashing waves. 

Smitty he turned to when he needed calm, needed a voice and shitty jokes and memes to ground him, to keep him steady while he regained his breath. Smitty made him chuckle, or smile softly, or roll his eyes fondly all while giving him a sense of comfort. 

John kept Brian sane, kept him on his toes with sarcasm and a no-shit attitude and interesting philosophies when it came to life and music. He was an enigma, and figuring him out gave Brian something to focus on, to be challenged by. 

They were an unusual bunch, Tyler, an old friend, and Smitty and Kryoz being relatively new and not usually his style. Brian knew he’d never be able to repay them though, would never be able to express that they’d _literally saved his life_ with their attention and careful, well meaning schemes. 

Brian wouldn’t be ashamed to admit he called them crying in the middle of the night, telling them he loved them after he had coughed out a huge string of roots into the toilet bowl and felt lighter than he had in ages, his breathing crystal clear and his fatigue eradicated. 

Nogla insisted he drive him to the airport when he left for America. There was no stirring, no overwhelming desperation, _no pain_ when Nogla hugged him goodbye, only the familiar pangs of sadness from leaving a friend behind. 

“I’ll miss you,” David mumbled into Brain’s hair, and the brunette hugged him a little tighter. 

“I’ll vi-”

“You’ll visit, I know,” Nogla huffed in fond exasperation, and Brian smiled into his shoulder and soft flannel before pulling back. 

“You’re my best friend, and I’ll never leave you behind,” Brian promised, squeezing Nogla’s hand briefly in one of his own. The words flowed easily, genuine and kind. 

David gave him a sad, grateful smile. 

“Thanks, Brian. I...I’m sorry. I haven’t been the greatest friend lately, and you’ve been hurting-”

“Nogla,” Brian reassured, cutting the older off mid rant. “It’s alright. This was something I needed to figure out on my own, with the help of a few new people. You didn’t do anything wrong, I knew you were concerned.”

“Did you figure it out?” David asked, a hopeful edge in his voice as he swept Brian’s face for any expressions of pain. Brian smiled gently at him. 

“I think I did.”

Nogla studied him for a moment before relaxing slightly. 

“I love you, man.” He mumbled softly, and Brian rested his hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. He knew the words were platonic, but there was no pain, no hesitation in the steady inhale and exhale of Brian’s lungs. 

“I love you too, David.”

And he did.


End file.
